


Something Good

by Liadt



Category: Henry VI - Shakespeare, Henry VI Part 3 - Shakespeare
Genre: Child Murder, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaret, Young Clifford and a body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Good

Margaret came into the chamber; it was empty save for Young Clifford. He rested one hand on the window in the style of a poetic knight, from an illustrated romance. In his other hand, he held his sword in front of his face. The blood ran down the blade. He gazed at the congealing blood as if it was the finest sight he had seen. 

“How now, Clifford,” said Margaret. 

He turned to her in triumph. “I killed him. York’s youngest son is dead.” He pointed his sword at the body of a child, slumped on the floor in front of a table. 

Margaret had not seen the body. Her eyes widened, like a cat spotting its prey and went up to the corpse. 

Clifford giggled. Margaret did not know if it was at her. In any case, she did not care. It was abhorrent to slay a child, but Rutland was not to be considered a child, he was the enemy. 

“He pleaded for his life,” said Clifford, observing her bend and turn Rutland’s chin towards her. The boy’s face was frozen in a mask of fear and horror. “Eloquent for a child,” he added.

“Too clever by half, like his father and brothers.” Margaret reached up to the table, pulled a napkin off it, and soaked it in Rutland’s blood. She was unsure why she did it, it was an automatic reaction. The blood stained her forefinger and thumb. Bloodied, like at a hunt, she mused. Take away the pleasure of the chase and what was the point of a hunt? Why, the eradication of vermin. That thought satisfied her and with her forces outnumbering York’s that is what the battle might as well be. 

She straightened and stared at Clifford. He stared back. In Clifford, she sensed the desire to continue his revenge wouldn’t hold him here long. She, however, could control her emotions, though her blood was warming. She bared her teeth in a grin and flicked out her arm. The movement made the napkin unfurl like a pennant. 

“What do you think of my new standard? Once this battle is over and I return to ladylike pursuits, shall I work this material into a tapestry, to commemorate our glory?”

“That is too small a scrap for a tapestry, my lady. I will provide the extra cloth needed,” said Clifford and bowed to excuse himself, before flying from the room.


End file.
